


Domestic Disaster

by the_random_writer



Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: Arguing, Domestic Fluff, Explosions, M/M, Minor Injuries, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 08:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10737894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_random_writer/pseuds/the_random_writer
Summary: Ty and Zane are good at a lot of things, but domestic maintenance tasks aren't one of them...Contains references to a few of my previous fics, includingLet Them Eat CakeandA Bloody Mess.





	Domestic Disaster

"I hope you're gonna turn the circuit off at the panel before you do that," Ty hollered up from the bottom of the stairs.

Zane peered at the jumble of wires. He'd never changed out a light switch before, much less one on a complicated dimmer control, but looking at the connections now, how difficult could it _really_ be? Detach the wires from the back of the existing box—neutral, live and ground—attach them to the new, standard switch instead, fix the metal box into place, screw the cover plate back on, and voila, all dusted and done.

Switching the circuit off first was probably a good idea, but that would mean opening the electrical panel. Usually not a massive task, except the cupboard in which the panel was housed was currently stacked to the gills with crap. Mostly his crap—stuff he'd had shipped up from the ranch and hadn't as yet had time to unpack—but some of it was Ty's as well.

Plus, the other lights in the hall were all on the same loop. If he switched the whole circuit off, how the hell would he even see? Bad enough that he had to wear his reading glasses to make out the tiny text etched into various parts of the box. He didn't need to go adding a layer of anaemic torchlight on top.

He could _totally_ do this. As long as he didn't touch or misconnect the wires, everything would be fine.

He pinched the insulated neck of the neutral between his thumb and his index finger, and slowly started to work it free from the back of the broken switch.

"Lone Star, are you _seriously_ gonna do this with the power on?" Ty asked, obviously not impressed. "And shouldn't you be wearing your safety glasses?"

Zane rolled his eyes. He didn't remember Ty worrying about safety glasses when he was being mauled by a mountain lion, or when they were jumping from three floors up into the depths of a cruise ship pool. "Relax, doll, I got this," he proclaimed in a confident tone. "Won't take me more than a minute to make the change."

The neutral wire peeled away; he turned his attention to the live.

"You're gonna blow the goddamn house up," Ty warned.

Zane snorted. "Says the man who almost _gassed_ everyone in the house to death."

The second wire was just as obedient as the first.

"That wasn't my fault," the ex-marine complained. "The old lady at the store told me adding vinegar to bleach would make it more effective than bleach alone."

"Yeah, at _killing_ us," Zane shot back.

"I'll admit that wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done," Ty admitted, "but it was still way smarter than trying to change out a light switch without turning the circuit off at the panel."

Zane made no response. He'd reached the tricky part of the operation, so needed all of his focus for the task at hand. Very slowly, he peeled the third wire away. As it popped free of the mount, he let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Halfway done, halfway to go.

"Make yourself useful, go drop that in the kitchen trash," he said, throwing the broken dimmer switch down to his other half.

Ty leaned forward to snatch the object out of the air, then disappeared to the other end of the house, no doubt muttering curses under his breath.

Zane wrangled the new switch out of his pocket and examined the fittings on the rear. It had more or less the same setup as the discarded dimmer. Three pins—one for each wire. He just had to connect the wires to the pins, one wire at a time. Fortunately, he'd been able to detach the wires from the old box without losing the hook-like shape. That would make them easier to reconnect.

Frowning intently, he carefully hooked up the neutral wire and slowly screwed it into place. The live wire was up next. It went in just as quick and easy. Now for the ground. Strange, that unlike the pins for the neutral and live, the pin for the ground wasn't already halfway open, but very tightly screwed down. Surely that was a safety concern?

He reached into his pocket again to extract the required tool. After ten seconds of grunting and straining, he finally managed to unscrew the pin. He pinched the grounding wire and carefully hooked it around the now loosened head.

The world around him boomed and flashed.

He dropped the box and staggered back, wincing as he collided with the other wall. Darkness consumed the house, his vision filled with silver specks, the acrid smell of burning plastic filled the air.

Jesus Christ, what the _fuck_ had he just done?

He heard Ty shout out his name, his voice full of panic and fear, then thunder along the main floor and all but throw himself up the stairs, taking them two or even three at a time.

Zane blinked a few times and shook his head. The buzzing in his ears receded, but the silver sparkles didn't fade. Then he realized—the sparkles weren't in his vision—tiny blobs of molten wire had splattered across his glasses and face. He could feel a few of the blobs now, burning into his chin and cheeks.

Ty grabbed him by the shoulders, hard enough to leave a bruise, and gave him a furious shake. "Zane, baby, please tell me you're okay?" he pleaded.

Zane blinked again and looked down, turning his hands over, checking nothing was damaged or missing. "I'm okay, doll," he told his spouse. "I'm okay."

The immediate emergency done, Ty flew into a full-on, Grade A, Grady rage. "You _asshole_ ," he spat, giving Zane another, even harder shake. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"I'm sorry," Zane calmly said, holding up his hands in defeat. He knew better than to argue back when Ty was in this kind of mood—it would only add fuel to the flames. "I should have listened to you, I should have turned the circuit off at the panel before I started the work," he added contritely.

"Damn right you should have," Ty retorted with a scowl, releasing his grip and backing away.

"No damage done, doll, except to my dignity and pride. It's okay. Really."

Ty snorted. "No _damage_?" he echoed, his voice absolutely dripping with scorn. "Then what the ever-loving fuck do you call _that_?" he asked, stabbing a finger at the wall.

Zane's gaze followed Ty's hand. His eyebrows shot up under his fringe as he took in the startling view.

Oh, _dear_.

In a two-foot circle around the switch, the wall was pitted, blackened and burned. The switch box he'd been trying to install was now lying on the floor. He'd let go of it, obviously, but whatever calamity he'd triggered must have pulled out the wires as well.

As he scooped up the box from where it had landed, his eyebrows shot up again. The connections hadn't simply pulled loose—they had completely melted away. Two or three inches of copper wire had gone up in a puff of smoke, either vaporizing completely or splashing across his face.

Ty caught up to his train of thought. "This is why you wear safety goggles," he growled, poking Zane hard in the chest. "You're damn lucky you had your reading glasses on, or all that molten metal would have splashed into your eyes instead."

Zane sighed, peeled his glasses away from his face and peered at the now hardened blobs. He slid a fingernail along the edge of the largest blob, carefully trying to prise it free. It flaked off, taking a layer of very expensive, anti-glare, anti-UV coating with it.

God damn it. _Another_ set of glasses ruined. And he'd only had this pair for a couple of months—replacements for the Calvin Kleins that had somehow ended up in a cake.

"This is why we can't have nice things, Garrett," Ty thundered, scowling again.

That was a comment too far for Zane. "Oh, _bite me_ , Meow Mix. Like you have any right to lecture me about shit like this. At least I know how to screw down the lid on a high-efficiency blender," he reminded his other half. "I might have put a huge burn mark on the wall, but you splattered beetroot and strawberry-flavoured goo all over the goddamn kitchen ceiling. I was finding that shit in all kinds of places for _weeks_."

"That was one time," Ty protested, holding up his index finger. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think anyone's ever died from not screwing down the lid on a blender."

"Oh, so it's only the lethality of the accident we're concerned about, then?"

"Course it is. I'm not gonna lie awake at night worrying about you doing something that might only leave you with a light bruise."

"Well, if _that's_ the way we're gonna play it, what about the time you almost melted a small crater into the garage floor?" Zane asked, getting hotter under the collar. "The fire brigade had to send in a guy in a hazmat suit to deal with that one."

"That was mostly Digger's fault. He swore on his grandma's bones the chemicals we were using were safe."

"Digger's fault. Right. You had _nothing_ to do with it."

Ty went on the offensive again. "Speaking of the fire brigade, what about the time you microwaved a corn dog so long the damn thing burst into flames?"

"You were walking around the house in a leopard-print thong. I was a little bit distracted!" Not to mention slightly disturbed—a classic case of scared _and_ horny.

"The corn dog wasn't the only piece of meat in the house threatening to combust, huh?" Ty suggested with a filthy smirk.

"You're funny."

"Least I've never been dumb enough to grab a kebab skewer by the handle straight out of the grill."

Zane subconsciously flexed his hand. It had taken weeks for those burns to heal. "I was hungry, and they smelled amazing," he said in his own defense. "My brain wasn't working right."

Ty huffed. "That's my excuse for doing stupid shit, Garrett. Come up with your own."

"You're from West Virginia. You don't need an excuse for doing stupid shit. It's wired into your goddamn genes."

"At least people from West Virginia don't try to change out a light switch while the power's still on. You have to go to Texas for that level of stupid."

"That's only because you don't _have_ electricity in West Virginia," Zane shot back, trying not to smile. "You hillbillies run everything on moonshine and banjo music instead."

"Hey, that's not fair!" Ty complained, getting into the mock-fighting spirit. "You know we only break out the banjo music for special occasions."

"What, like when you marry your sister?"

"I'd rather marry my sister than be fucked by a horse."

"I hate to remind you, doll," Zane drawled, "but you're already being fucked by a horse."

Ty grunted and rolled his eyes. "Now who's being funny?"

Zane grinned at his spouse; his spouse grinned back. Who said it wasn't healthy for a couple to fight?

The Texan pointed at the lights. "If we want the power back on, we'll have to clear my crap out of the cupboard so one of us can get in to the panel."

"Probably about time we deal with it anyway," Ty replied. "As long as by 'one of us', you mean you, 'cause I ain't going anywhere near it. The spiders in there are the size of my hand," he added, shuddering slightly.

"And you don't have the best track record with electrical equipment," Zane went on, thinking of Ty's 'interactions' with items such as printers and phones. "You go in to reset the breaker, you'll end up knocking out the whole street instead."

"There is that, yeah."

"Will you at least help me move my junk, or are you gonna leave me to deal with that as well?" Zane asked as he headed for the stairs.

"That depends."

"On what?"

Ty grinned again and flashed his brows. "Which kind of junk are we talking about?"


End file.
